It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends
by The Eloquent Quill
Summary: Inspired by the song by Bright Eyes. Draco and Hermione were once lovers...After he hurt her, the relationship changed. R


_Yeah, you still kiss me, but it's just on the cheek  
Yeah, you still kiss me, but it's just on the cheek  
Yeah, you still kiss me sometimes, but it's just on the cheek  
You pull away so easily_

_  
_"Hey Draco," your voice is sweet and you kiss me on the cheek. I feel horrible for wishing it was more, like in the old days. I instantly recall how you would walk in after work, or class, and just kiss me like you hadn't seen me in months, rather than hours. You smile at me and ask what I would like to do today. "Anything," I answer. Too bad you can't hear the end of that…. _**Anything as long as you're there… **_

_  
And I still call you, but I get your machine  
And I still call you, but I get your machine  
And if I'm lucky I guess, I get your roommate answering  
But you're at the bar, or at Gene's_

"Hey, this is Hermione-"  
"And Ginny!"  
"And we aren't in right now-"  
"So leave a message at the beep!"

I have memorized the words, as often as I call it. And that is what it feels like, any more, that I am calling your machine rather than you. I hate the sound of that beep. It symbolizes the insanity that is forever creeping in, and stealing little bits of my soul as I sit here in my loneliness. I'll call again soon, and either that beep or Ginny's voice will answer my call. Sometimes, I really don't know which is worse. The beep, or her lame excuses. __

And we go to dinner, but you won't hold my hand  
We sit at the same table, but we don't play with our feet  
Yeah, we still go to dinner sometimes, but we don't sneak a kiss  
When the waitress turns around

You called me earlier today, asking if I wanted to go to dinner. You seemed down, but I would have accepted even if you weren't. I walk into your favorite little café, and look around. And there you are. Sitting in the far left corner booth, with a great view of the place and the window that looks onto the street. You look beautiful, of course, and I tell you so. You blush so prettily, but ignore the comment. After a while, you ask for a bite of my pasta, and I pass you my fork. But the innocent incident is fucked over royally when the deities decide to mock me and force our hands to brush. You pull your hand back, like it hurt you to physically touch me. Strike one, against me.

Then you get up to go to the bathroom, and our feet connect under the table. You wince, and my heart clenches. It seems that any physical contact causes you either pain or something close to disgust. Strike two, against me, again.

The waitress brings the check, and you reach for your purse, like you always used to do. I grab it up, before you can sneak even the smallest of peaks, just like always. But instead of kissing me, like you used to, you just smiled and said, "Thank you." Strike three, I'm out.

__

And we still watch movies, but we don't share the couch  
And we still rent movies, but we don't share the couch  
Yeah, we still watch movies sometimes, but you don't lay in my lap  
The plot is slow, take a nap

After dinner, we go back to my place. You still are feeling down, although, I haven't the slightest idea why. You don't really talk to me any more, not about things that are bothering you, anyway. You pop in a movie, and sit in my chair. I don't mind that you sat in my spot; I just mind that there isn't room for the both of us. So I sit alone, on the huge couch, and watch you watch the movie. I remember briefly how you used to sit with me, and lay your head in my lap, begging me to play with your hair. You would laugh and cry and snort at appropriate times in the movies that you deemed worthy enough to pay attention to. And if they didn't quite meet your standards, and the plot was slow, you would snore softly.

__

And you even stay over, but now we stay in our clothes  
Yeah, you'll even sleep over, but now we stay in our clothes  
Yeah, you even sleep over sometimes, but we stay in our clothes  
I'm only there so that you're not alone

You watch the entire movie, not really laughing, even if it supposed to be a comedy. But then again, you don't fall asleep, either. That makes me wonder what really is wrong. Too much on your mind? Or too little? Or what? I wish it was like how it used to be, when you would tell me and we would talk about it. I wish it was like it used to be, so I could take away all your pain and all your worries.

You ask to spend the night, and I let you. You ask for a pair of my boxers and a tee-shirt to sleep in, and I get it for you. No longer will I wake up to find you cooking breakfast in naught but the sheets. __

And you say that I hurt you, in a voice like a prayer  
Yeah, you say that I've hurt you, and your voice is like a prayer  
Yeah, well maybe I hurt you sometimes, but let's contrast and compare  
Lift up your shirt, the wound isn't there  


"Draco?" you ask like you're afraid that I would do it. Like I would really kiss you against your will. Perhaps you saw my desire to kiss you in my eyes, but you should know that I am not one to kiss where a kiss is unwanted. I lean away from the bedroom door- my bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Even I can hear the rejection dripping off my voice.  
"Draco, you- you really hurt me." I wince, and my head throbs. Are you finally ready to talk about the past, then? Finally ready to talk about what has been bothering you, and what made our relationship change?

"I know." What else could I say? I already used every apology in my body on you, but they didn't do anything but make you cry.

_  
I guess that your truth, is just the ghost of your lies  
I guess your kind of truth, is just the ghost of your lies  
Yeah, your kind of truth, darling, is just the ghost of your lies  
I see through them all the time_

We talked about it. _**The Problem**_, as I have nick-named it in my head. But what good did it do? You played the victim, and denied that I could have been hurt too. You give me these excuses, and I see that you're just lying. You don't think you hurt me, and you don't think I am hurting even now. But that's just it, isn't it? These lies are you covering up the truth. And the truth is that it's not what I did that hurt you. It's what you did, and didn't do. But of course, you're too afraid to admit that. So these truths you spin, they are the ghost of the real 'lies,' as you call them.

_  
So I'm pouring some whiskey, I'm gonna get drunk  
Yeah, I'm pouring myself some whiskey, I'm going to get really fucking drunk  
I'm pouring some whiskey right now, I'm going to get so, so drunk  
That I pass out, forget your face, by the time I wake up._

Neither one of us can really look at each other, so you leave. Perhaps tomorrow, you'll come back and we can be friends again. But I doubt it, and that thought claws at my insides. The burning cold that fills me hurts. So I pour me some whiskey. I plan on getting drunk. I throw the picture of you and me all those months ago, at the wall. And I pour more whiskey. I plan on getting really fucking drunk. Hopefully, I'll pass out, and forget your face when I wake up.

A/N: Well, this song is by Bright Eyes, and it's called _It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends_. I know that most of this stuff in the story is against magic and all that… but I think that this 

story is more about the characters, rather than the magic. And I really didn't want you all to get caught up in the magic aspect. Tell me what you think?

Yours in Eloquence


End file.
